Do You Love Me?
by Ebony-Ink-Stain
Summary: "They said speak now." Cowritten with Mourningdawns. Spelling errors because Googledocs gave us issues.


"Marshall? Jeez Marsh, what the crap is wrong with you today?" Mary asked, sliding next to him.

Marshall sighed. "I don't know, Mary. Maybe because I'm getting married in two hours..." he

murmured, glancing over at his best ma-er-woman, wishing she was taking a different place at

the altar. After his eight-month stint with Abbi, he figured the next woman he dated better be the

one. When he met Lia, a college English prof, he thought he found true love. Or at least, a good

replacement.

And in theory, they were a perfect fit. They read the same books, saw the same plays, enjoyed

the same discussions. But it wasn't the same. He liked Lia. He loved her, he cared about her, but

he wasn't in love with her.

Looking at Mary, he wished all of this wasn't happening. They shouldn't be having this

discussion, he shouldn't be wearing his best tux, he shouldn't be getting married. He was

though. Staring into Mary's eyes, he wondered if it was too late to run away.

"Mary..." he whispered quietly. Perhaps it wasn't too late...

Mary looked up. While Marshall had been lost in though, she had been playing with the top button

on her feminine-shaped tux, figuring out how many buttons she could undo to subtly tick off the bride.

She didn't like Lia. Didn't give Mary the directions to the wedding rehearsal, that jerk.

Even though Mary called fifteen times. Lia gave the excuse that the phone wasn't on, but of

course she could answer it in the middle of the vows (school emergency Mary's a**).

Of course, when Marshall looked down, Mary was unbuttoned a little too much.

"Uhh...Mare?" He looked away, ever the gentleman. "You may want to be a little

more...presentable than that." Mary looked down and swore as she buttoned one more button,

more for Marshall's comfort than her own (it wasn't like it bothered her). He chuckled at her and

she smacked him playfully on the arm.

"You're so old-fashioned." She teased. Marshall rolled his eyes.

"Considering my best man is a woman, I would think I was rather progressive." They smiled at

each other, enjoying the odd moment of normality on such a strange day. Marshall's smile grew

sad as he considered that though; he never had moments like this with Lia. There wasn't any

comfortable teasing between them, they never playfully fought and he would never, never,

consider tackling Lia when they were roughhousing. Of course, Mary was a much better

roughhouser than Lia, so maybe that was just being polite. He looked down at Mary's hands,

wishing those were the fingers he would slip a ring onto later today. Mary's hands, rough from

work, with calluses from her gun would look just as pretty as Lia's dainty, oft chalk-covered,

hands. Prettier, he secretly admitted.

"Mary..." He began, trailing off as he realized he didn't know what to say.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Mary," Stan said, peeping his head in, "They need you

upstairs." Marshall gazed up at Stan with a pleading look in his eyes. Just one more moment, he

begged inwardly, just one more before I go up and lose myself to the wrong woman. Even

though I can't have the right one.

Mary grinned. "Kay Stan," she smirked, then sighed as she stood up. "Guess I should probably

write my best man speech while I'm at it, huh?" With that, she left the room, not even bothering

to say any last words to Marshall. Why should she? It wasn't like this was the end…they were

still partners...but something would be missing, wouldn't it? That camaraderie. There would be a

more significant person in Marshall's life.

Mary shook the thoughts out of her head. It wasn't like she hadn't been expecting this. Marshall

was a great guy. He was bound to find someone. It was her job now to accompany him down the

aisle, to give the speech at the reception…crap…the speech…what could she say? That

Marshall was the best partner she ever had? The one who had stood by her through the worst

moments of her life. Who never gave up on her, who always had her back. Her best friend? The

one she trusted more than anyone. The one she didn't mind making her laugh or holding her

when she cried. Her love?

Mary stopped. She hadn't expected that thought.

Love? Marshall? Be in love with Marshall? Sure, the thought had crossed her mind before, but

she'd always been quick to blame it on exigent circumstances, like too much alcohol or

near-death situations.

After all, they were best friends, partners. Love would just screw everything up. Look where love

had gotten her mother. Love messed things up, Mary had always been sure of that. Thinking

back to Marshall though, she allowed herself to ponder if maybe, just maybe, love wouldn't ruin

what they had.

She shook her head, clearing away the thought. Of course she would wait until the day of

Marshall's wedding to wonder how she really felt about the guy.

"Mary, hurry up." Stan reminded, turning around and startling the inspector out of thought. "What

were you and Marshall talking about anyway? Looked kind of serious for a wedding." Mary

shrugged.

"Oh, you know how Marshall is. He's probably in there comparing different wedding traditions of

the world or something." They both laughed. Stan was eager to pretend he didn't know better and

Mary was equally eager to play along.

"You might be right." They found the rest of the wedding party, sans both the bride and groom

and someone Mary didn't know went over how the ceremony was going to go with them. She

didn't really listen; all she could think about was the gloomy groom sitting downstairs, looking

more like a prisoner awaiting execution than a man on his wedding day. After all, he had the

honeymoon to look forward to.

The honeymoon. Mary turned a faint shade of green as she imagined Lia getting dirty with her

Marshall. Mary tried to clear her head. No, that pronoun did not sneak its way into that sentence.

Marshall was not Mary's to keep. Still, Mary couldn't help but want to upchuck as thoughts of Lia

turning Marshal on crawled into her mind like a bad lover. Mary closed her eyes, ignoring the

wedding-man, doing everything she could not to think about the soon-to-be newlyweds in bed.

RETCH.

Shaking, Marshall laid his head against the toilet-rim. This was not how he expected his

wedding-day to go. This should be a blissful celebration, not a day when he should be losing his

lunch in panic and despair. Deep down, he knew he was marrying the wrong girl. But

Mary…Mary was his tiger. She would never go for being locked up in a marriage. Never.

He sat on the bathroom floor as he tried to collect himself, ignoring the thought of what was on

that floor and the fact that he was mussing his suit. He held his head in his hands. His head hurt,

his stomach was twisted in knots and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. He was a mess.

While Marshall was busy trying to hold himself together, Mary was busy trying to find Marshall.

He wasn't where she'd left him, not that she really expected him to be, and he wasn't with Lia

(another place she hadn't expected him to be, honestly). As she escaped from the snarling bride,

Mary wandered outside, not finding her string-bean of a partner anywhere. Sighing, she went

back inside, grabbing a quick sip of water at the water fountain before continuing her search.

As she turned, she saw a light under the men's room door. There was no such light under the

women's door, so someone must be in there. Or they just forgot to turn the light off, she thought

to herself as she pushed the door open quietly.

Looking towards the stalls, her chest tightened as she recognized a very familiar pair of long legs

sitting on the floor.

"Marsh?" She asked, walking closer. He looked up and Mary bit her lip. Marshall closed his eyes

and leaned against the bathroom wall, cheeks flushing. "Marshall, what's going on?"

Marshall's mind blanked. "N-n-nerves," he stuttered. Precariously, he pulled himself up, then

walked a couple of steps forward. He kept his eyes to the floor, faltering under Mary's hard gaze.

"Nerves?" she asked skeptically. "You can calmly shoot people in a moving car, but you can't

walk a 25 foot long aisle?"

"It's more complicated than that, Mare," Marshall groaned, turning on the sink.

"What's so complicated about it? You love her, don't you?"

She noticed Marshall pausing at the sink. She noted how he stared into the mirror, trying to

oh-so-cleverly sneak a look at her. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

"Marshall, spill it out already!" she snapped, "You love her, don't you?"

Marshal curtly nodded, an almost mechanic response. "I do love her, Mary. She's the best option

I have." The best option isn't always the right option though, Marshal thought, staring down at his

hands. But sometimes the right option is an eternally locked door.

"Options? Like there are others?" Mary asked, drawing closer to Marshall.

Marshall shrugged, closing his eyes. He hadn't slept last night; he'd been too nervous. All he

could think about was that sliding that ring onto Lia's finger meant he was forever giving up on

the hope he'd held of Mary and him being together. It was hard to put down a torch you'd been

carrying around for years. Compared to what he felt about Mary, his feelings towards Lia

were...bland, at best.

Life with Lia would be ordinary, a house with picket fence out front, a dog, 2.5 kids. There would

be someone there with him when he woke up in the morning and next to him when he fell asleep

at night. They'd have dinner together every night and everything would be perfect. Or, at least,

everything would seem perfect.

Marshall swallowed as he tried to push away thoughts of Mary. Lia was the woman he was

marrying. Lia was the one he had proposed to on bended knee.

Lia, the woman who could match him literary reference for reference, who actually liked

Hemingway, who thought beer tasted 'bad' and probably hadn't taken shots since she was an

undergrad.

Lia was the woman he was suppose to grow old with, but that didn't mean he didn't want Mary.

Once, Mary and he had made a drinking game out of a Lord of the Rings marathon. It had been

silly and spontaneous, but they had done it and they still laughed about. Another time, he had

drug Mary out of bed at two in the morning to watch a meteor shower with him. She'd

complained, but he'd caught smiling when she thought he wasn't looking.

Lia was not someone he wanted to wake up in the middle of the night or someone he particularly

wanted to get drunk with. She wasn't really someone he thought of as 'fun'.

He swallowed again as he looked at Mary in the mirror. He was weighing his options: would

closing the distance between the two of them be less of a mistake than saying 'I do' to Lia? He

turned around to face her, drawing a deep breath.

Stan barged into the bathroom. "Where in the world have you two been? The wedding's about to

start!" Stan griped. He thought this wedding was a stupid idea, but would either of those two

lovebirds listen to him? NNNNooooooooooo. He really hoped he didn't have to go through a

divorce and late nights picking up two drunk marshals from bars to get it through their thick

heads.

Mary glanced at Marshall and half-heartedly smiled. "Let's get this over with, string-bean," she

mumbled, sprinting out of the bathroom. Marshall could swear he saw something glistening in her

eyes.

After popping in a couple of mints, Marshall made his way to the sanctuary, then to the altar. Here

he was, about to lock himself in a picket-fenced cage, forever giving up on loving Mary. His eyes

glistened with tears as Lia walked down the aisle. This wasn't right, but it was the closest right

he would get. He stared at Lia and smiled. This wouldn't be too bad. Actually, it might be a pretty

good life….could it?

Mary's hands were clasped behind her back, nails digging into her palms as she listened to the

priest drone on and on. She refused to ruin Marshall's wedding, but she couldn't forget his face in

the bathroom. There was something he wasn't telling her…but what? Did he realize he was

making a mistake? If there was any doubt in Marshall's mind he was marrying the right woman,

Mary wanted to know before she married him off. However, as Marshall always told her, there

was a proper time and place for everything.

"…speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There's the cue.

Mary looked up and her eyes met Marshall's. It may have only been a second, maybe less, but

the look on Marshall's face spoke volumes. 'Don't leave me' it said. 'Don't let me do this, don't let

me make the wrong decision. Please.'

Mary would remember that look on his face forever.

They moved as one, as they always did, Marshall, turning away from Lia as Mary stepped

forward. At first, no one reacted. They thought it was a sweet gesture, the best woman giving her

support to the groom at an important moment in his life. Lia even forced a smile.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as they looked at each other, seeing, perhaps for the first

time, what they had always tried to avoid.

The distance between them closed more, they were face-to-face for a split-second but Marshall

was too much of a gentleman to kiss her in front of a church expecting a completely different

kind of kiss.

Instead Mary took Marshall's hand, watching as the small crowd's expression slowly morphed

from cheerful to confused and finally to horrified.

Those were more looks she wouldn't ever forget.

They all but ran out the backdoor of the church, Mary leading the way even in her high heels.

They didn't stop until they reached Mary's car and jumped in, racing away from the church and

out towards the desert. Mary had always considered the desert a good place to hide and it also

had the added advantage of poor cell phone reception, which would deter anyone from trying to

find them. Anyone except Stan, who had an uncanny ability to find them no matter what.

The silence finally broke when Mary and Marshall looked at each other again and they began

laughing. They were still laughing when Mary parked the car in the middle of the dessert.

"I can't believe we just did that," Marshall gasped, out of breath from laughing so hard. As he

caught his breath, his smile faltered. "Why did you do that?" he asked quietly, pushing himself up

to get a better look at Mary.

She shrugged. "I wanted to know what you were going to say in the bathroom. You looked like

you had something to spit out, and I didn't want to marry you off if something was weighing on

your conscious," she lied. To her surprise, Marshall's smile shrunk even more, his lips barely

trembling. Did Marshall really want to get married to that lunatic? "What? Should I drive back to

the chapel right now?" she asked in disbelief. Marshall violently shook his head.

"Then what, numnuts? What's wrong?"

Marshall opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. "Do you love me?" he asked, voice

hesitant and soft. There. He said it. God, he prayed silently, please don't let me have made the

biggest mistake of my life. Please.

Mary was stunned, and that terrified Marshall. She had flopped back into the driver's seat, staring

forward in shock. Oh crap. He blew it. The one person he wanted, needed, the most in his life

and he completely blew it. "Mary?" he whispered weakly, shaking her arm gently. "Mary?"

His voice, apparently, was like adding potassium to water. Without warning, Mary exploded out of

her seat, throwing herself against Marshal, kissing him. Marshall, on instinct, ran his hands

through her hair. Mary always did let her actions speak for her. As Marshall tenderly held his

exotic animal, he reminded himself to start going to church more often.

"Should I take that as a yes?" He murmured as the kiss ended, his arms wrapping around her

protectively. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, almost making a joke about taking him

back to the church, but even Mary realized it was a bit too soon for that.

"You're such a doofus." She sighed into his chest, relishing the way it felt to be in his arms. Mary

wasn't the kind of girl who needed a man to protect her, but the safe feeling she felt in Marshall's

embrace was a positive.

They were silent for a while longer, Marshall's chin resting on Mary's head, smelling her

shampoo. It smelled like apples. The silence was interrupted by the shrill ringing of Marshall's

phone as it finally got service. He fished it out of his pocket.

6 missed calls. 2 Voicemalls.

Marshall frowned as he looked at it.

"Do you really have service out here? I need to get a new phone." Mary said, taking the small

device from him. They both stared at the phone again as it began to ring once more. Marshall

was hesitant to answer it or listen to those voicemails. Mary, ever the problem solver, pulled the

battery out of it and tossed it to the floorboards.

"I think I'm scared to go back to Albuquerque." Marshall said carefully, twirling a lock of blonde

hair around his finger.

"Oh yeah?" Mary hadn't honestly considered the ramifications of their actions until Marshall's

tone all but forced it upon her.

"Yeah." Mary tried to imagine the chaos that was probably going on right now. Stan would

probably fill her in on every gory detail; he wasn't likely to let either of them forget what they put

him through. Mary voiced this.

"You know, I think Stan might kill us." Marshall smiled, slowly turning into laughter. Holding Mary,

the adrenaline wearing off, his laughter faded, a few stray tears escaping to fall down his cheeks.

Mary brushed them away but otherwise ignored then; Marshall'd had one hell of a day.


End file.
